The sun had slipped behind the horizon, leaving only a faint smear of dying light across the plains. Heavy grey clouds swallowed what was left of the sky, turning evening into premature night. The air was growing colder by the minute, and you cursed yourself for not buying a warmer coat when you had the chance.

You sat on the fallen trunk of an old tree, boots half-buried in the damp earth, hands held close to the flickering bonfire. Your jaw was clenched tight as you tried not to shiver when a sharp wind cut through the camp, a wind that felt like it carried all the ghosts of the New World.

This land was supposed to be a fresh start. A place where a man could build something better. A future brighter than anything you left behind across the ocean.

But America had not welcomed you with open arms. It swallowed you whole.

More men were gathering around the fire now, their drunken conversations shattering the fragile quiet of the night. Laughter, curses, the clink of bottles. All of it drowned out the calls of the night birds in the distant pines. You almost jumped when someone sat down beside you. One of Colm’s boys, face half-hidden beneath the brim of his hat, blending so perfectly into the shadows he could’ve been carved from them.

He was the one who found you, half-conscious, bleeding, and barely alive. He brought you here.

Dragged you in like a loyal hunting dog showing off a prize to its master.

And in that moment, you really did feel like a worthless stray. Colm had taken you in, fed you, patched you up… then tightened an invisible leash around your neck — a leash made of fear, loyalty, and the simple truth that you had nowhere else to go.

You became like a domesticated wild animal.

Colm said “attack,” and without hesitation, you raised your revolver at whichever poor bastard he pointed at. After long months, you were even allowed to carry out jobs on your own. At first, you thought it was a sign of trust, until you realised it was a test. A test to see if you’d run.

You almost laughed when the truth hit you. Run where? You knew no one here. The New World promised a better future, but all it gave you was a new master.

After a long stretch of silence, the man beside you finally spoke, voice barely above the crackle of the fire. You caught only the important part — “Colm wants to see you.” You nodded, got to your feet, and dusted the ash from your trousers.

You moved quickly toward the old abandoned cabin that now served as Colm O’Driscoll’s temporary headquarters. The wooden boards creaked beneath your boots, and the warm yellow light spilling from the cracked window was the only sign the place had life in it.

“Good work, ” O’Driscoll said the moment you closed the door behind you. His tone was unusually pleased. That meant tonight you might actually sleep somewhere warm. “You’ve earned yourself a reward, don’t you think?”

He poured two glasses of whiskey, the sharp smell filling the room.